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"On the road, everything you need should fit in your boot."

From your mother
sanguine inheritance

father too

Bloodlines inherited from 

your daddy—the one that 

looked just like the one who looked at you 

from the photo on mother’s bureau


The one she’d show you 

neat in its frame

This is your father she’d say, this is

your bloodline

his name

Four bloodlines 

lined up in a row

shared between

sister and brother first, then

brother and sister, after

Four bloodlines


spread across

state lines

borders of countries whose

tongues we don’t speak whose

true titles our mouths 



Bloodlines split across 

time zones


Life and

death and 

what is gone and 

what has been given



Home, then

is rolling and road and a limitless
24 inches, 53 feet and 30 paces

five axles free

—free within—

governed speeds

Home is

where the truck 


dropping platelets like oil slicks 

in neat little rows

Bloodlines like turn signals

indicating direction—

this way



Must it promise us anything? 

Does it owe it to us to maintain 

itself as we once

regarded it only to leave

again and

again and


A return is 

just a visit

Wasn’t it



As you do not,
home could not either


Home too is governed

by change

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